Into thin air

The police arrived at nine the next morning. I awoke to his empty apartment in my dress and pumps from the previous day.
I had dreamed that he had returned
and had apologized for scaring me.....
but that was just a dream.
I quickly dialed 911 to file a missing persons report and anxiously waited for the police to come.
They came soon enough.
I gave them his physical description and that's when I lost it.
With tears streaming down my face, I spilled my life story to the two, awestruck policemen. I told them that my father had recently died, and that he and my boyfriend had been the only two important people in my life.
I realized in that second that without Him, I was completely and utterly alone.


"Why is someone screaming?" I thought angrily as I rolled out of bed to look out the window.
I saw two ladies and a dog. The one with the nice suit was screaming and throwing a hissy fit while the other one was frantically trying to calm both the hysterical
lady and the terrified dog.
Oh my God.
I really hate it when people overreact.
I went to my fridge to get a beer.
It was 2 pm in the afternoon...had I really slept that long?
I looked at the clock again.
Apparently I had.
I went and sat on the couch, sipping my cold beer.
I closed my eyes and drifted back into the past.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am, but I am afraid that we have done everything we can." The policeman took a bite of his donut and looked down at the file. " There are just no leads.....I'm so sorry, but this is just a dead-end case."
"What do you mean by 'dead-end'? My boyfriend is missing and there is nothing you can do about it? Do you understand that he has to be somewhere! People don't just disappear into thin air!" I was screaming, hysterical. I hadn't slept or ate in three days. I was constantly by the phone, waiting for that helpful call.....that never came.
Weeks passed and the police filed his case as a cold case.
Weeks passed and the more he began to fade into my memory, the more I began to sink into darkness.
I no longer felt like living in New York...everything reminded me of him. I saw him on the subway; I saw us walking in Times Square, window shopping in So Ho.
I couldn't muster up the strength to pack up his belongings. I slept in his shirts, breathing in his scent.
One day, while I was taking a shower, I slipped and fell and slit my wrist on a shard of broken glass. The pain was amazing.....I wanted more.
I started to look for anything sharp to cut myself with. Every time I watched the blood trickle down my wrist, I was exhilarated.

I jolted awake and stared at the blank wall that was facing me.
I know what to do.
I got up from the couch and went into my room.
I pulled a large trunk from underneath my bed and slowly opened it.....holding my breath, scared to look inside.
I pulled out a sun dress and my red pumps. I quickly slipped the dress over my head and carefully placed the pumps on my slender feet. The dress hung limply from my thin frame....God, had I really lost that much weight?
I ruffled around in the chest until I found my lipstick and perfume. After applying both, I went back to the chest to retrieve one more thing.
After placing the picture in the pocket of my dress, I looked into my compact mirror and smiled.
I took one last glance at my shabby, gray apartment as I skipped out of my door.
I felt the cold air kiss my skin, giving me goose bumps as I walked off the elevator. People in the apartment building looked at me like I was crazy, wearing a summer dress in the middle of the winter. I didn't care, though. I finally knew what I was doing.
The wind was bitter, but I closed my eyes and let it embrace me with its icy arms.
I clutched his picture that was in my pocket and walked on.
I heard whispers of gossip...someone named Fil died this morning....how silly I was for wearing a spring dress.....how terrible the weather has been.
I kept walking.
I had no clue where I was going.....the only thing that I knew was that I was going to disappear..
"but people aren't able to just simply disappear," people will say when they can't find me anywhere.
"Why?" I think. "My boyfriend did."

Vanishing Acts

I step out of the cab at exactly 12:26 pm. I look toward the restaurant, eyeing the table that we usually occupy, to see if he is here yet.
No.
This doesn't bother me because he is usually running late.
I giggle because I really can't wait for him to get here.
The hostess smiles as I approach her and guides me over to the table in the corner of the restaurant. I sit down and ask for a martini.
I glance at my wrist watch again-- 12:31.
Alright, Sloan, stop being so precise....you know he takes forever to do EVERYTHING.
I decide to look at the menu. As I scan over the familiar entres, I can't help but start to feel anxious.....I glance at my watch again-- 12:45.
Where are you?
I decide to call him from my cell phone.....he doesn't answer. So typical...but this isn't okay. The anxious feeling is beginning to consume me as I try his cell again. No answer.
I wave the waiter over and hand him a twenty. "Keep the change," I say as I get up from the table. It is now 1:05 and he is still not here.
The ride to his apartment seems endless, even though it is only three blocks down. The whole way I have his number on redial, endlessly calling him......never getting an answer.
The receptionist gives me a smile as I click through the sliding doors of his apartment building.
I get into the elevator and push the number 9. As each button begins to light up, I start to get more and more anxious.
I'm sure he is fine.....maybe he forgot? No. He specifically told me 12:30 at Imagio's. He wouldn'tve forgotten this.
Finally number nine lights up and I get off, heading straight across the hallway to room 901.
I knock.
No answer.
I press the redial button on my phone as I scrounge through my purse, looking for my set of keys.
I open the door, ear still pressed to my phone, hoping that he will answer this time.
That's when I hear it--the soft chime of his cell phone ring. I follow the sound and find his cell phone sitting on his bedside table, along with his keys and wallet.
That's funny...how did he manage to lock his door without his keys?
I decide to wait for him.....when he gets back, boy is he going to get it.
"Where are you?" I think to myself as I sit down on his couch.

I wake up to a growling stomach..
do I really have to eat?
Seeing as I barely have the energy to get up oout of bed, I make the decision to go to Manny's to get something....maybe a luna bar....or some beer.
I end up deciding not to get anything but some beer and my usual camel lights.
As I walk back up to my apartment room, I hold the door for the woman behind me-- "Thanks," she said, timidly. "You're welcome." My voice cracked...I don't think that I have talked to someone in over a year.
My apartment smells like rotten eggs.
I don't care.
God, I want him so badly right now. I want to smell him, I want to kiss him, I want to hear his voice. I want him so badly right now it hurts.
I gulp down my beer and decide to go back to sleep. Even though I relive that nightmare everytime, it's better than actually being awake.

I am standing on the Pier, looking at the ocean that is spread out in front of me. It is such a gorgeous picture, I am breathless. The skirt of my white dress billows in the wind, my hair is flying everywhere. I am so entranced by the ocean I do not hear him come up behind me. All of a sudden his big, strong arms incase me, making me feel so safe. He kisses the top of my head and says, " I love you so much. You know that, right?" I turn around and look at him. At his beautiful face. "Yes."

I wake up to a loud noise that is going on outside of my window. Damn. I hate this place.....is there construction going on somewhere?
I look out the window and see that the sleet is what is making so much noise.
I am surprised to see some crazy lady running down the street, chasing after something that must've gotten caught in the wind...
that's why you don't go outside when the weather is THIS bad....duh.

I finally ate something today....an apple. I must say, it wasn't as good as I thought that it would be. i had to drink a beer to get rid of its after taste. I guess that my body needs something, though. I have been feeling so weak, lately.

I hate this weather. It has been so miserable outside for the past couple of weeks. I peer out of my window again, this time seeing a black van making its way slowly up Baker Street. Hm.
I close the curtains.
I hate this weather.
I am cold......blankets?
Where are my blankets?
I find one underneath the bed and wrap it around me. I go and sit on my couch.....I find a cigarette squished between the cushions. My lighter is on the coffee table. God. I love smoke.
I look at my wrists. They are looking a little better today. After my cutting frenzy, they began to swell and turn purple. Thank God they look better. I hate doctors.
I finish my cigarette and smash the butt on my cushion...a bad habit.
I close my eyes, the rhythmic noise of the sleet is now putting me to sleep.

I look in the mirror. My hair is in its usual messy ponytail, my teeth are brushed, make-up is on. I have on my new sun dress that hugs my naturally thin body.
I smile.
Today is the day.
I leave my apartment at exactly 12:00 p.m. We are meeting at a little restaurant in Manhattan called Imagio's at 12:30. We all know that New York traffic is a mess.
My red pumps click as I skip down the stairs. I am so excited.
The weather outside is gorgeous: sunny, cloudless, in the high seventies. I love this weather.
I wave hello to Victor, the bellman. He blows me a kiss and calls me a taxi.
"Have a wonderful day, love," he smiles at me.
"Why thank you," I smile back.
He tells the taxi driver where I need to go as I look out the window onto the streets of New York city. In this beautiful weather, in this beautiful city, all I can think of is how today is the day.

Making more marks

I sometimes wonder what I'm doing here in this drab, gray apartment building. My dad left me a lot of money...so why am I in such a dumpy place?
I had forgotten to pay the electric bill (what's new?) and so my apartment was freezing and dark. Not to mention the weather outside was not much better: wind and gray skies. Awesome.
I haven't slept in quite some time, due to the fabulous temperature of my home. I've been eating less and cutting more. I think that I'm doing worse than ever....but, I don't care.....it's not like he's here anymore.

I get up from my couch, cigarette in hand, and slowly walk over to the window. I look out onto the street, which is completely desolate. There is not a living soul in sight. No one wants to go out in weather like this.
Why am I here, again?

I turn around and walk back to the kitchen. The room smells so incredibly sour. Damn. Whatever is in my fridge needs to be thrown away....nah, I don't feel like it.

I look around for cigarettes....I can't find anymore. My I have already smoked up my last pack. Great. Cigarettes happen to be one of the few things that I cannot live without...I guess that I'm going to have to go get some at the store.

As soon as I get to the elevator, the doors open, exposing a woman dressed in a short dress and high heels. She gives me a nasty look that asks, "are you getting on, or what?". I really do hate people sometimes.
The elevator doors close behind me, encasing me in a box that reeks of perfume and total awkwardness. The doors open and I quickly exit, making my way out into the windy and gray atmosphere of this hell hole.

The grocery store is fairly empty--thank God.
I grab a six pack of beer and head to the cashier to get some camel lights.
After I scrounge around for change at the bottom of my coat pocket, I am able to come up with the money to pay for my "necessities".

All too quickly I am back in apartment 901. Thank God.
I pop open a beer and light up a cigarette, making my way to my old, beat up couch. I inhale and wash the smoke down with a swig of the bitter liquid. Heaven.
I close my eyes and think of Him.
I inhale again, this time keeping the smoke inside my lungs as long as I can.
I open my eyes and extinguish the cigarette butt the cushion of my couch. I watch the tiny red pieces slowly burn a hole into the fabric.
Oh well.
I go to the kitchen and go straight to my knife drawer.
I open the drawer, exposing the beautiful, sharp and shiny blades of relief. I slowly pull one of them out, examining it closely.
I watch as my left hand wraps itself around the handle of the knife, guiding the blade to my right wrist. The blood comes out in a smooth, straight line.
"this one's for you," I think.

Brown Water

It was Wednesday. I had not walked out of my apartment building since Saturday. My trip out into the cold, bitter air was not one that I had wanted to take, but I was officially out of booze and cigarettes, and I had finally gotten the energy to look around for some change. Plus, I was beginning to smell like shit- my clothes hadn't been washed in God knows how long, and I was running out of long-sleeved shirts.
As I stepped into the gray, hazy atmosphere of Baker Street, I quickly pulled the hood of my hoodie onto my head, tucking my long, dark brown hair into it.
The only other person who I saw was an old lady who was coming out of Oscar's Butchery holding a white, paper bag. She looked a little disturbed, and kept pulling at her scarf that was loosely tied around her neck.
"Poor old lady," I thought to myself. I averted my eyes and focused back to the ground quickly making my way down the street.
The sticky aroma of steam mixed with the sweet scent of laundry detergent greeted me as I pushed open the heavy door to the Laundro-Mat.
Good- the room was completely empty.
The washing machines were so small in this laundro-mat.
I hated it.
It took me more time to stuff my clothes into the machine than it took to actually wash them.
After about ten minutes of arranging and rearranging, I finally managed to get every single article of clothing in and successfully close the door.
It was time for my favorite part- sitting and watching my clothes swirl around and around, turning the clear liquid into brown water.
The soft "swooshing" sound that the washer made calmed my over-anxious nerves, putting my into a semi-calm state of being.
A state of being that I rarely felt.
I watched the water begin to slowly turn the color brown- my eyes started to droop. Even though I tried desperately to keep them open, I failed.
At once, a picture of his face overwhelmed me.
He was clearer this time. I could make out his defined features: his square jaw, his high cheek bones, his piercing blue eyes. Oh my God......those eyes.

After I finished drying my laundry, I scurried back to my apartment- room 901- and went straight to my knife drawer.
It took me several minutes to decide which knife I wanted to use- I ended up choosing my favorite, the one with the sharpest blade.
I walked slowly down the hall, letting the adrenaline seep into my pores. The handle of the knife felt like heaven in my hands. My mouth began to water, my head began to swirl.
I pushed the sleeves of my shirt up so that they were just above my elbows, my skinny, scarred arm completely visible.
I ran the hot water in the sink and watched as the knife drew a beautiful ruby red line across my wrist. The blood began to quickly decorate my arm, falling into the sink like tears, turning the swirling, clear water into brown.
As the kife passed over my skin, I instantly felt relieved. Exaustion quickly took over. I stopped the water and went over to the medicine cabinet to pull out tape and gauze.
After I wrapped up my wrist, I went into the kitchen to pull out a bottle of wine that I had bought at Manny's grocery while waiting for my laundry to dry. I managed to pop the cork and make it over to my couch.
I collapsed.
The wine was bitter, but it tasted so sweet.
A heavy dizziness quickly embraced me, encouraging sleep.
I thought about how I didn't actually buy any food at the grocery store today.
I thought about how I hadn't eaten in three days.
I thought about all of the things that I needed to do, but I didn't feel like doing them.
When had I become so incredibly unraveled? When had I lost it?
And then I remember him.
A tear slowly dribbled down my cheek and once again I fell into darkness with his face
staring at me.

Sloan Waters

I awoke to the sound of dripping water and the rancid smell of puke. My eyes were still closed, but I could feel my sticky, rejected left-overs squished between my cheek and the floor. Waking up with your face in your own throw-up is pretty disgusting, but not having the energy to get up and wash it off is even worse. My lips were cracked and dry and my head felt like a thousand knives were being jabbed into it. I could already feel that this was going to be a great day..
I finally managed to sit up, my eyes still closed. I sat there in the middle of the floor for about ten minutes until the persistant sound of dripping water began to feed my growing headache. I opened my eyes and pulled myslef into a standing position. The noise that my leaky kitchen faucet was making kept me from cleaning up the mess on my floor.
My kitchen counter was littered with various papers, empty beer cans and wine bottles. I ignored this mess and headed straight for the sink. As I tightened the water knob, I decided that I needed a cigarette.
After about five minutes of searching through the various mounts of bottle caps, I found my lighter and lit my last cigarette.
I inhale....heaven.
I made my way over to my torn-up couch and collapse, taking in another breath of smoke.
That is when I catch a glance at my bare wrist. I usually have on long-sleeves but this morning I happened to wake up in a T-shirt...which I really needed to change out of.
My wrist is tattooed with various scars, some thick, some thin, some jagged, some straight. They are all the color of white, the new skin only raised just slightly. My newest cut just beginning to form a scab.
I take in another breath and cover my wrist with my other hand. I lean back on my couch and clos my eyes. Instantly, I see his face.
He is vivid; he looks so real I want to reach out and grab him.
I take another puff of my cigarette.
He is still there...smiling.
When I open my eyes, though, he vanishes, leaving me alone on my beat-up couch with my throw-up in my hair and scars on my wrist.
At this painful realization, I throw my cigarette butt onto the floor and smush it with my bare foot.